


Betrayal

by CrowCircle



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Death, Implied sylvix, M/M, Verdant Wind route, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22559731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrowCircle/pseuds/CrowCircle
Summary: He’s marching them to their deaths—falling from cold, starvation, from his own grieving hands. He doesn’t care. Had he ever?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 52





	Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> Please take note of the warnings, and enjoy.

Felix knows that something is wrong—worse than before, when he knew the primal creature that lived inside their king was bubbling just beneath the surface of that charming, smiling facade he put off during their time as students. Now, months after they’ve caught up with him, their class reunion a pale, sad thing in the northern reaches of what used to be the Kingdom of Faerghus, Dimitri thinks his goal is in sight. Edelgard, on the field of battle toward which they marched—Adrestia’s downfall, and whatever satisfaction such a bloody ending their mad king yearns for. 

He’s marching them to their deaths, but pride keeps one foot moving in front of the other. 

Good strategy insisted they make their base somewhere less frigid, less difficult to house an army they’re scraping together, somewhere easier to find supplies than the borders of Gautier territory, but there’s precious elsewhere for them to run. Garreg Mach would have been perfect, if not for the Alliance holing up there first while the remnants of Kingdom resistance chased glints of rumors of Dimitri all across Fódlan. Byleth was with them, at Claude’s side. Another chip stacked against them. 

Felix was tired. Tired of Dimitri, tired of war, tired of the futility of it all. Still, he pressed on. He raised his sword, he cut down his enemies. His scars increased in number as his motivation fell, his focus frayed, his stamina waned. Dimitri didn’t notice, let alone care. Sylvain scolded him, a voice eerily similar to Ingrid’s, whose ire he also caught for his carelessness. He wrapped his wounds, washed his hair, kissed him better—for a while. The darkness always came back, emanating from the boar prince like a sickly force of nature. 

He saw Dimitri when he braved the cold winter winds to get to the communal sleeping quarters (which was an old barn), stalking back from wherever he went during the day to brood somewhere warmer at night. Felix felt a bright red jab of anger between his ribs, like a hot knife, a passion he hadn’t felt in a long, long while. He changed course, crunching through the shin-deep snow to intercept him. 

“Boar,” he snarled, hands outright as he shoved at Dimitri’s side, making him stumble into the crumbling wall of a decrepit stable. 

Dimitri took a moment to right himself, turning his reproachful stare to Felix. He didn’t say anything, just stood at his full height, looking down his nose like Felix was so far beneath him. 

“You’re going to kill us all,” Felix whispered as he stared into an emotionless blue eye, wanting desperately to take a step back and run, but he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. “Your hands already have our blood on them.”

“A price I’m willing to pay,” he responded, eye empty. 

Felix let out a howl of frustration, kicking and shoving at Dimitri until he was forced into the first stall of the old building, nearly toppling over at the sudden onslaught, but he caught one of Felix’s flailing wrists and pulled him down instead to land in a heap on his side, the air knocked out of him. He looked under his arm to see Dimitri standing imperiously over him, blue eye stark in the darkness. 

“Don’t bother me with empty words. You’re not worth the effort of listening.”

Five years ago, Felix would have been full of fury and explosive energy, but now—now, he felt the will leave him, and slumped further down. He wanted to cry, for the first time since Glenn died, but no tears came out. He felt empty, like the hollow stare Dimitri aimed at him. 

“Your country has fallen, your forces are scattered beyond reparation, and your friends—what friends you have left—are going to be slaughtered at Gronder.” Felix waited for a reaction—anything, anything at all—and was disappointed. “And then you, standing atop our corpses, will finally be put down like the rabid animal you are. The world will be better for Edelgard’s rule if you are the alternative.”

Dimitri snarled, a reaction at last, and kicked hard into Felix’s ribs. There was an audible crack, blood spurting from his mouth as he coughed, fingers scrabbling at the dirt and snow in a reflexive attempt to get away. 

A gauntleted hand wrapped into Felix’s hair and smashed his face into the ground with another resounding crack from his nose, pushing him onto his stomach as he flailed, breath coming with difficulty and blood staining the snow around him crimson. 

“You’re weak. All of you are. And I don’t need you.” Dimitri’s voice was low, dripping with disdain. “The least you can do is to serve a purpose if you’re going to lie there doing nothing.”

Felix’s head was pounding, his broken ribs screaming with pain, and he’s fairly certain at least one lung was punctured if the amount of blood he’s coughing up means anything, but he can barely take a breath in, let alone call for Mercedes, for Sylvain, for _anyone_ —

Dimitri’s hands were yanking at him, he couldn’t process the freezing cold temperatures biting at his bared skin until his legs were kicked apart and he was being forced open, a strangled scream stuck in his obstructed throat as pain burned through him, the armor of Dimitri’s gloves pinching and breaking the skin of his waist as he forced himself upon Felix’s broken body. 

Instinct told him to fight. The pain in his body told him to rest. The voice of his mind was quiet, and he lay bonelessly as Dimitri loomed over him, using him hard and rough and not stopping until he finished inside of him, one of his hands snarling into Felix’s loose hair once again to grind his face into the bloody snow. 

“I used to think you were pretty,” Dimitri huffed, pulling out and situating his clothes. His tone was bored, derisive, and ultimately disgusted. “Look at you now. Useless and so easily broken, just like all the others. You’re not special. And now you’re going to die, just like your father. Just like Glenn.”

Dimitri left, stalking away as if he hadn’t just assaulted one of his childhood friends, one of the only people he had left to count on—as if he hadn’t just beaten and left him for dead. Felix couldn’t cry, couldn’t breathe, and found himself counting the seconds between each broken inhale with a crunch of bone, each iteration becoming longer and longer until his vision began to leave him. He could hear Sylvain’s voice distantly, though whether it was real or a phantom, Felix couldn’t say. If he survived, he would leave. Sylvain would go with him, if he asked. He knew it too, how futile fighting for a mad man was. The rest of them knew. He’d take as many of them as he can, and get away. If only he could keep his chest moving, his heart beating...

—

When Ingrid found Felix’s body, she screamed. When Dedue hurried over at the noise, he swallowed, and turned to look in the general direction he’d seen Dimitri disappear into. Annette sobbed loudly, and Mercedes fell to her knees, trying fruitlessly to revive him. Ashe turned his face to keep the others from seeing his tears, holding Annette back as she scrambled to get to him, trying to prove he wasn’t gone. When Sylvain arrived, he stared. He knelt down next to Mercedes, whose gaze was blinded by tears, even as she continued her healing spells. They hovered in the air before disappearing, unable to find any living thing to heal. He reached out to touch Felix’s frozen cheek, focusing on a sightless brown eye. He didn’t say anything, but stood, walking away without a backward glance. Dedue followed. 

Weeks later, when the battle at Gronder Field found three forces clashing, the Kingdom forces were lead by Dimitri and his only remaining general, and were decimated. Dimitri never felt regret or remorse for those he used to call his friends, not to the last moment he drew breath. Finally, his task unfulfilled, he joined their ranks in death, haunted and pained and damned for eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> Exploring the darker side of characters is one of my favorite pastimes. Chat at me on twitter—> @AttaliaKenway


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